Starting Again
by caffeineaddict13
Summary: Everything I did, I did for you. Don’t you see that? Jess writes. Literati.


**A/N:** Finally, a new piece! I hope you like it (hint: take two seconds to drop a review and tell me what you think!).

**Summary:** My idea for this is that each "chapter" is a little piece from a longer, actual chapter in a book that was written by (you guessed it) Jess. Keep in mind that in the actual book, he would explain more about everything that happened in Stars Hallow and afterwards, but because I'm assuming those of you who are reading this already know what's happened, I'm not going to re-play everything all over again. Also, another thing to remember: This is not The Subsect. This would come after that, considering he mentions writing that book and seeing her at the publishing house. Everything up to season six (and I guess seven) is fair game.

**Disclaimer:** As always, I do not own Gilmore Girls, the characters, or anything affiliated with either one. I also do not own the incredible lyrics by various artists I've included in this story. I urge you, please, that I chose all of those lyrics specifically for this and reading them will make this story ever so much more enjoyable (aka, they've got a way with words that I do not). If you want to know where any of them come from, just ask.

Enjoy!

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**Introduction**

I have spent my entire life trying to figure out one of those great, philosophical questions that we never seemed to learn about in science class. A question that, all people, I think, find just as confusing and just as difficult to understand: Who am I? In any case, I find it hard to believe that after all this time, it seems that the answer I was looking for was long pushed away in the back of my mind, stored in with song lyrics and history notes; with what used to be and what never was. It's floating in my semiconscious and has been for a while, waiting to be picked up and examined by my own microscope, waiting to be realized, waiting to be remembered.

It's her. It's the way that the angel all of us consult when we are deciding whether or not we're doing the right thing has her voice—sugary sweet and completely tuneless. It's the way that I have stopped crossing the street just to see if that brunette might be her, but anyone looking close can see that I flinch at every pair of blue eyes. It's the fact that every sentence I write includes her name, and I still get shocked through my spine when I almost (mistakenly) hear someone say it. It's because I have never stopped giving up on her. It's because I know that she's the first person I will call when I have finished this, and because she will know that it's for her before even reading the dedication.

I think—I know—I blew it.

**Dedication**

To the one person that always believed in me.

Because we started with a goodbye and never got to end.

Because we weren't high school sweethearts.

Because we both got broken.

Because timing is everything.

Because it was always you.

**Chapter One**

_Another heart has made the grade_

_Forget it, forget it, forget it_

_I don't understand how the last card is played_

_But somehow the vital connection is made_

Words were all we had. Lines of black text on white paper, overflowing, cramming our vision with synonyms and similes and plot twists and famous characters and eager girls and careless boys. Other people's words. Other people's thoughts. It seems fittingly ironic that by the time you read this, our world has disappeared into those stories, into this story—it seems fittingly ironic that our last standing ovation should be made in words.

You tried to open me to this seemly fairytale, with your perfect mother and your perfect house and perfect boyfriend and perfect town. You tried to convince me as easily as you convinced me to clean your gutters. You tried to convince me as often as you tried to push me into Ayn Rand, but this wasn't literature we were talking about, and anyway I wouldn't give in to either one of those. I'm not afraid to admit that I was stubborn. But don't you get it? I don't come from the land of the sugar plum fairy. I never had festivals to celebrate the beginning of summer and a halo on top of my head. I think the first time the town princess didn't get her way was when I came into the picture.

**Chapter Two**

_I receive his letters in the mail twice a week_

_And I think he loves me_

_And when he leaves her_

_He's coming out to California_

When I was a baby, my dad went out to pick up milk and never came back. I guess I don't care much, because it's not like I had much time to play baseball with him in the park, but it really screwed up my mom. She would bring home a guy a week (I wish they came with a warning tag—caution: violent when drunk), and I would go to my room and climb out the window. Come to think of it, that's probably why I got so good at it.

My friends were assholes, and so was I. That's why I never told you about my life before. They taught me how to break into buildings; petty crime and juvenile delinquent stuff, but it would still hurt you. I knew you would be even more ashamed of me if you found out what I used to do, so I just figured you wouldn't mind if I never told you. I didn't know about the whole honesty thing. I never had a real girlfriend before you. I mean, there were girls, but never ones like you. They weren't wholesome, and they definitely weren't pure. I wasn't looking for a relationship when I came to my uncle's; I was looking for a way out of my mom's house. But I found you instead.

**Chapter Three**

_Let me count the ways that I feel so sorry_

_When it rains it drains the spirit dry_

_We all have our mishaps, misfortunes, misopportunities_

_And the strength to carry on; consider yourself free_

_And you don't deserve this_

Does it hurt you as much as it hurts me? Do you get that pounding in your skull, tightness in your chest, constrictions when you breathe? I actually went to the doctor once, right after I left. I didn't think anything that wasn't brutally physical could hurt this much.

Turns out it can.

It hurts more when I realize that you'll probably never forgive me.

**Chapter Four**

_Touch your nose; you're the girl who wanted more_

_Now baby, the story has faded from love to lie_

_The clover under your feet is shooting stars in the night_

_The people under your feet are shooting stars in the night_

There are many things I should have told you while we were dating. The many factors that eventually ended in the train wreck of our relationship. I was failing school, but I guess you must have figured that out from your mom, maybe, or even Luke. I'm sure he would have told you. He cared more about you than he ever did about me. The point is, I wasn't graduating. There was nothing I could do about it, nothing Luke could do about it, nothing you could do about it.

I'm self-destructive. You should have realized that by now, and being in my vicinity would only give you burns from my inner bomb. It was near the end of senior year when I started to hear myself ticking again, and instead of trying to de-rail it, I pushed everything away. Maybe if I had tried to stop it, things would have been different. But I tried to save you instead. And I ended up miles across the country, wondering, like always, how I had managed to destroy everything good I ever had.

**Chapter Five**

_I'll give away this girl who tried to make you fall in love_

_I'll give her to you so keep her close to you_

_So you won't forget about oh how she loved you_

_So long ago, once upon a time_

What broke me the most was when I came to your dorm room. I had a plan, you know. I didn't really mean to just barge in there and demand something that big from you on the spot. The last thing I wanted was for you to feel pressured, and that's what I ended up doing. But seeing you with him…it hurt. I know it sounds like a guy thing, but I won. Versus Dean, I won. And it hurt even more that you would give in so easily to your old ways. Like as long as something better didn't come along, you'd be mine. You throw away boys so easily, and it hurt to think that I was just one of the many. I thought we were different.

I wasn't ready. I know now that I wasn't. It wouldn't have worked out back then, if you had told the truth and come with me. We'd have ended up fighting in a crappy little apartment on the bad side of New York. But sometimes when I'm dreaming, there's a little scene that pops up: you and me, living together. Yeah, it's a crappy little apartment on the bad side of New York, but it's us. And sometimes I wish that if you had just said yes…

**Chapter Six**

_As for the part about having something more_

_Let's not pretend that it's like it was before_

_I wish I could say that it's not because of you_

_But it's because of you_

The things I liked about you:

1. The way your hair smelled

2. That you told me I could borrow Howl

3. That you didn't get mad when I stole it

4. The way you looked without make up on

5. Your laugh

6. That you admitted cones are better

7. That look you got before you kissed me

8. You can do more

9. The amount of coffee you drank

10. Turn right

11. The way you said my name

12. Sad boy

13. So you'll call me?

14. I think I may have loved you

15. Stop following

The things I hated about you:

1. I'll just have to get over it

2.

3.

4.

5. No

6.

7.

8.

9. No

10.

11.

12.

13.

14.

15. You don't deserve this

**Chapter Seven**

_Don't be scared of what you might be thinking_

_I'll take you to the edge_

_Go across that window_

_And I'll carry you_

I wish I could say that I moved on, but I can't. I changed; I know that much, and I'm pretty sure you do, too. I'm no longer an angry boy. I worked hard to get a job I like and a decent apartment and I even have friends. And I'm grateful, really, I am, because I never thought I'd be able to pull it together like this, but there's always something missing. It happens in those moments when I'm sitting at a table in a restaurant with a beautiful girl across from me—and she can make me laugh, and she's nice, and she's pretty, but there's always something missing. She's not you.

I wish you didn't have so much fucking control over me. Everything I did, I did for you. Don't you see that? When I told you that I couldn't have done it without you, I wasn't lying. Didn't you ever think it strange that I thanked you for a book I wrote a year after you rejected me? It was your voice in my head the entire time. "You can do it, you can make it, you're smarter than you think." Over and over and over. And the worst part? If it weren't so goddamn beautiful, I'd almost want it to stop.

**Chapter Eight**

_No, I don't believe, no I won't believe, you will remember_

_I would hold your hand if you came to me_

_I would do anything to see you walk free_

_I just don't know_

I still dream about you all the time, but I've started wondering less about what could've been and more about what was. It seems like so long ago that we were flirting over the counter tops and kissing on the bridge and arguing in the gazebo. Stars Hallow…those two years of my life feel like a dream themselves. They're so unreal. That was only two years, you know. And the strangest thing is that it feels like so much longer. Maybe because you didn't know me before that, or after that, or maybe because I didn't know you.

It's like something you would read in a book. Where the main character goes on hiatus, and you don't hear from them, but when they come back, they're different. And you just know that something's changed, that something's made them change, but you can never figure it out. Is it odd that I don't tell anyone about those years? I used to think that it was because I didn't want to talk about how I was so screwed up, but I talk about my life in New York and I was even more screwed up back then. I realized it's because I feel like if I talk about it, I'll find out that it wasn't real. And I'll feel so stupid for creating these memories, but then—even worse—will come the I-told-you-so: because you really were too good to be true.

**Chapter Nine**

_And if you're standing there with me_

_I'll swear it's a lie and I'll still believe it_

_Cause I came_

_And I spoke_

_And you ran_

You wanted to know why I only talked to you.

All I wanted to know was why you let me.

If I could do it all again, I would.

**Chapter Ten**

_It's getting harder to believe I've gotta go, but I don't want to leave_

_You've got your mortality on your sleeve_

_And if I'm something you've outgrown_

_You think that maybe I'd have known_

Remember me as I was the last time you saw me. Maybe it only made sense that we had that final clash. As much as it hurt me, I think it hurt you more. And it's better, in a way, because now you know what I've become. You know that I've worked harder than ever, and that you can't knock me down—no matter what you do. But you'll also know that there will always be a place for you. Somewhere inside of me, there's a part of my heart that's restricted for you.

I'm not pining, really, just like I never expected you to. I _do_ know you, and I know that you'll find someone to love. Not because I wasn't enough or because what we had wasn't real, but because you're open to love in ways I never was and never will be. For you, I wasn't the end. I was a bridge to get you to this other place—somewhere I don't think you could have gotten without me. I got you to let go. To dive, headfirst, into reality and dream combined. You learned how to love; really love, rip-your-heart-out love—and nothing that happens is gonna change that. That's why you'll find someone else. And I won't. It's not a prediction…it's a fact. You were it for me. You _are _it for me. And if you do find that you miss me, just know: I'll always be waiting for you.

**Author's Note**

_Everything that we are now_

_Is everything we can't let go_

_Or it's gone forever, far away_

_I hope tomorrow is like today_

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**End**


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